


A Wolf for Christmas

by WordsandChocolate



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, BAMF Stiles, Bisexual Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Derek, Oblivious Stiles, Pack Bonding, Pack Christmas, Pack Dynamics, Pack Feels, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski is Part of the Pack, Stiles-centric, Werewolf Jackson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 15:55:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5546132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordsandChocolate/pseuds/WordsandChocolate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is enjoying his new-found spark powers, and has come to terms with his unrequited feelings for Derek. Mostly. But with monsters, enemies and Christmas fast approaching- who knows what will change?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Wolf for Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alis/gifts).



> Written for the lovely bistiles as part of the tumblr Sterek Secret Santa 2015.

“Duck!” Stiles yelled, and Isaac ducked as the mountain ash bat swung over his head, glowing with magic, and connected with a dull thud.

The tall thin bird-like creatures had proved impervious to werewolf claws, their strange black feathers hugging their body like armour. As the bat connected with the feathers on the creature’s face, Stiles could feel a difference. He’d layered a bunch of different spells on the bat, in the hopes of the creatures being vulnerable to one of them. A moment later, he smelled smouldering feathers, and grinned victoriously.

“They’re vulnerable to fire guys!” he called out, and followed up his attack with a ball of fire to its face.

The creature gave a shrill, piercing screech and its head exploded, sending grey-tinged goo all over the forest clearing.

“Ugh!” complained Erica, wiping some off her hair.

“I liked this jacket,” Boyd said quietly, tone unimpressed.

Stiles glanced around the clearing. There were three creatures left, and three werewolves. Scott was out with Allison, Lydia was studying, and Derek was on his way.

“Hey werewolfies,” Stiles called, dropping the bat and raising his hands. “I’ve so got this. Just herd them on over to me.”

Stiles was keen to finish this up- he had Christmas shopping to do, dammit. Between the workload of senior year and the monster slaying/researching, he didn’t have time for much else. As he blasted the first creature that Erica sent tumbling to the forest floor, Stiles gave silent thanks for his magical abilities. Cornering Deaton and making him give some actual useful information had proved successful. Stiles had been training with Deaton for almost 8 months now, and he’d been progressing at a rapid rate, thanks to his Spark abilities. His will and intent were able to skip a lot of the steps to a spell that Deaton had to follow exactly.

Boyd slammed into one of the creatures, sending it hurtling in Stiles’ direction. Stiles readied himself for a fireball as the thing pulled itself up and stared menacingly with its flat black eyes. Suddenly there was a growl and a familiar leather jacketed figure dove in between Stiles and the creature, knocking it back into the ground again.

“Derek!” Stiles yelled, annoyed. “Get out of the way!”

Derek snarled and swiped at the creature’s face with his claws. The claws glanced off the feathers without leaving a mark. The creature let out a piercing shriek, which had the wolves grabbing at their ears and whining in discomfort. The creature that was still standing, attacked Isaac. Derek rolled off the creature on the ground and started towards Isaac.

“Finally,” Stiles grumbled, and hit the creature with a fireball.

Derek looked back, startled.

“Are we getting it now? Move so I can blast the last one!” Stiles said, a sarcastic tone creeping in. This wasn’t the first time Derek had done something like this.

Boyd and Erica moved towards Isaac, but Derek quickly pulled the creature off the curly haired boy and flung him towards Stiles, who hit the creature with a fireball before it hit the ground. Isaac looked around the clearing, covered with grey gunk, and brushed some off his scarf.

“So glad I didn’t miss this fun night,” he muttered.

Erica grinned, still running on adrenaline.

“We’ve still got time for showers and a night out. Stiles, want to come to the Jungle with us? Bet there’d be a cute guy or girl in it for you.”

Stiles sighed, the adrenaline fading fast as the tiredness from using a lot of magic started seeping in.

“Nah I’m just gonna go home.”

He stumbled over his feet, and Derek was suddenly there, holding his elbow.

“I’ll walk you to your Jeep,” he said quietly.

Stiles sighed. He knew Derek was just looking after what he saw as the weakest member of the pack, not anything else. He’d resigned himself to pining a while ago. As much as he enjoyed Derek’s attention, Stiles was getting a bit annoyed by the protective thing. Sure, a bit of that stemmed from his wish that Derek’s protectiveness meant something else, but it wasn’t all that. Stiles was finally feeling useful, and even a bit of a bad-ass, with his magic. He wasn’t helpless anymore, and he wished Derek could see that.

They walked through the preserve, Stiles trying not to feel too grateful for Derek’s support as his muscles started shaking a little.

“Do you have anything in the Jeep?” Derek asked, noticing the tremors.

“Yeah, some power bars. It’ll tide me over until I get home.”

After Deaton explained that using magic cost real energy that he needed to replenish, Stiles started keeping snacks in the Jeep. It worked okay most of the time.

“There’s something bothering me about those things,” Stiles said.

“Yeah?”

Stiles smiled a little. Derek always listened to his theories.

“They seemed, specific? Like, they were in the preserve, where you guys go on runs so you would sense them easy. And seemed designed to be hard to kill by you guys. I mean, feathers that repel your claws and teeth? I’ve never read of something like that. It’s weird. Like something has it out for you.”

“You think they were being controlled or summoned by something else?” Derek asked.

Stiles nodded. “Yeah. I’ll do some research tonight, see if I turn up anything. Maybe they’re a construct? That would explain the werewolf-specific stuff.”

“Let me know what you find out,” Derek replied, his face serious. “Call me if you need to investigate something.”

Stiles frowned. “Dude, you know I’m a bad-ass now. What’s with all the protective shit?”

Derek’s eyebrows shot up, and he seemed almost- embarrassed?

“That’s not, I know you are, I just- you’re still human Stiles. And you’re always getting into trouble, I,”

“I’m not a child!” Stiles said, trying not to sound irritated. “And I’m not an idiot either.”

Derek looked hurt. Crap, Stiles was the worst.

“I know you’re not a child,” he said stiffly, looking away.

The arm tucked under Stiles’ elbow tensed, but he didn’t pull it away. The Jeep came into view, and Derek leant Stiles carefully against the side door. Stiles pulled his keys out, unlocked the door, and fished a bar out of the glovebox. After eating it, Stiles felt a lot better. He looked over at Derek, who was leaning against the Jeep next to him, shoulders hunched defensively. Stiles leant against him and bumped him gently with his shoulder.

“Hey. I’m sorry. Just, next time we’re in the middle of a fight, could you maybe think before jumping in? I really did have it under control, Sourwolf.”

Derek didn’t say anything, but his shoulders relaxed a bit. Stiles smiled.

“Dude imagine if Lydia had been there tonight. Can you imagine her covered in this stuff?”

The corners of Derek’s mouth twitched a little.

“Ooooh imagine Scott. ‘Brooo! This is gross, right? This is soooo gross!’ And if Allison was there-“ Stiles put on a soppy voice and his best love heart eyes. “Oh Allison, you’re still so beautiful, even covered in grey stuff-“

Derek smiled, and Stiles felt quietly victorious. He knew that he annoyed Derek, but at least he could make him crack a smile now and then. Derek’s smiles were...something else. Kissable. Ugh stupid Derek lips. Stupid feelings.

“You should go home,” Derek said quietly.

Stiles sighed. “Yeah. Need to get all this stuff off me.” He bumped Derek again with his side. “See ya later Sourwolf.”

Derek rolled his eyes, and peeled himself off the car. He waited in the darkness of the trees as Stiles clambered into the driver’s seat, and drove back onto the road.

*        *        *  

Three hours later, Stiles looked down at his books and notes, then back up at his 27 tab browser window. He sighed, and picked up his phone.

“Derek? Pretty sure we have a witch situation here.”

There was a stony silence, then an exasperated sigh. Stiles grinned, imagining the cranky eyebrows Derek must be sporting right now.

“Yeah dude, I know. We can talk to Deaton tomorrow I guess? He might know if there’s something going on with them.”

“Ok. You should sleep, Stiles.”

“Yeah yeah, the fragile human needs his sleep, I know. See you in the morning.”

“I don’t mean...” Stiles heard a sigh. “Night Stiles.”

*      *       *

In the morning Stiles rolled out of bed, fumbled his way into clothes, and drove over to Derek’s loft. Derek pulled the door across as Stiles raised his hand to knock. Stiles smirked.

“My what big ears you have. You got coffee?”

Derek raised his eyebrows and gave him snark face, before he nodded, and Stiles followed him to the kitchen. He leant against the counter watching Derek operate the coffee machine. Stiles felt smug- there hadn’t been anything there before, but he talked Derek into doing some renovations. There was something missing though. Stiles looked around the open area, thinking. Then he realised.

“Dude, where’s your Christmas decorations?”

Derek turned, handed Stiles a cup of coffee, made just the way Stiles liked it. Derek shrugged, his expression closed off.

“There’s no point.”

“Why not?”

“There just isn’t.”

Stiles considered. Derek hadn’t said he didn’t like them. Did he think it was because it was only him, it didn’t matter? Stiles lips pressed together firmly as he made some plans for later. Derek deserved nice things, just like anyone else. No way Stiles was going to support any lonely brooding.

“Let’s go,” Derek said abruptly, heading for the door.

*      *      *

“I haven’t heard of a coven being here,” Deaton said, looking at Stiles’ notes. “But your observations do seem to point that way. Be on the lookout for more constructs or summoned creatures. Stiles, next time you encounter them, do the tracking spell we talked about. There should be traces of magic on the creatures, which may lead you back to the witches.”

“I know, I already thought of that,” Stiles said, fingers tapping the table impatiently. “Is there any way we can track them before we get into a fight?”

Deaton looked at Derek. “Did you get any scents from the creatures who attacked you?”

Derek shook his head. “No, they just stank of magic.”

“Then I can’t be of any further assistance right now,” Deaton said calmly. “I will let you know if any new information arises.”

Stiles groaned. “Ugh so helpful. Fine. I’m using your supplies before we head out.”

He headed for the next room without waiting for permission, Derek following. Twenty minutes later, Stiles was tying a black cord around Derek’s wrist. It was layered with spells, rubbed with sandalwood oil, and the scent lingered pleasantly in the room. Stiles tried not to linger on how it felt to gently encircle Derek’s wrist with his fingers- he may have spent a little too long touching, but Derek didn’t seem to notice.

“This is to protect you from scrying by the witches,” Stiles explained, fingers shaking a little as he finished tying the knot and brushed across the fine dark hair on Derek’s arm.

Derek’s voice seemed a little hoarse as he answered “are all the wolves getting them?”

“Yup- if the witches are targeting werewolves in particular, this should make it harder for them to plan their attacks.”

“What about you?”

Stiles shrugged. “I’m just human, harder to block scrying stuff using this.”

Derek didn’t look happy. His fingers travelled restlessly over the cord, playing with it, and Stiles tried not to stare too hard at the movement of his fingers.

“Try and find something Stiles, I...want you to be protected too.” Derek looked down at his bracelet, then back up at Stiles, catching his gaze with his green eyes.

Stiles leaned forward and placed his fingers over Derek’s wrist, drawing a rune over his skin. It glowed slightly, then disappeared.

“That’s my..personal sign, I guess you could call it. I put a little bit of me into you, and now if you need to, you can always find me.”

Stiles decided not to mention that the spell only worked because he had complete trust in Derek and an emotional bond. Reluctantly, he drew his fingers away from Derek’s skin. Derek shivered a little.

“That’s, that’s good work Stiles,” he said softly, looking down at his wrist.

Stiles could feel his blush at the praise blossom across his face and travel down under the neck of his shirt.

He cleared his throat nervously. “Uh, yeah thanks, we should go do the others, I’ll send out a text.”

He fumbled with his phone, managing to send a group text ordering everyone to the loft to get some magical protection. And for lunch, cos why not.

*        *        *

“It looks stupid,” Jackson muttered as Stiles tied the cord around his wrist.

Scott and Isaac were putting together a bunch of sandwiches in the kitchenette, Stiles having done their bracelets first. Allison and Lydia were out picking up some chicken to add to the lunch spread. Erica and Boyd were sprawled on the couch, awaiting their turn. Derek sat in the armchair next to Stiles, reading a book.

“If it clashes with your outfit you can retie it around your ankle and hide it under your sock,” Stiles said flatly, having anticipated Jackson being a dick.

“It’ll rub on my skin,” Jackson whined.

Derek growled from his chair, and Jackson stopped.

“You’ll wear it until the witches’ threat is over,” Derek ordered, flashing his alpha eyes and frowning at Jackson, who subsided sulkily.

Stiles flashed Derek a grateful grin, and Derek gave him a half-smile. Jackson leant against the nearest wall and pulled out his phone to fiddle with.

“Me next!” Erica said eagerly, leaning across Boyd and holding her wrist out to Stiles. She sniffed appreciatively as Stiles tied hers on. “Smells nice.”

Boyd held his wrist out for his, jostling Erica to sit more securely on his lap. Stiles appreciated their attitude- Jackson becoming a werewolf hadn’t improved his personality in the least. A werewolf was an improvement over a kanima, he guessed. He’d brought everyone up to date on the creatures, and his suspicion of witches being behind it. Allison had texted her Dad to let him know of the latest development. Stiles had already texted his. The main door noisily pulled open and Lydia and Allison entered, the latter carrying a big bucket of chicken. Stiles’ stomach grumbled loudly, and Erica snickered.

“Sandwiches are done!” Scott yelled from the kitchenette, as Isaac entered the couch area, bearing a large plate of assorted sandwiches.

The food was placed on the large coffee table, and the pack dug in. Stiles stuffed his face hungrily for a while, the power bar hadn’t been enough to replace the energy he’d lost fighting. When he was comfortably full, he stopped suddenly and slapped his forehead.

“Oh no, I left my bat in the truck! I need to re-layer the spells.”

Stiles turned and looked beseechingly at Derek, trying his best puppy-eyed look.

“Could you get it for me? Pleeease?”

Derek sighed. “Fine.”

As soon he left the loft, Stiles waited long enough for Derek to be out of werewolf-earshot, then turned to the others.

“Right guys, I have a job for you. Do you see the lack of Christmas decorations in this place? Shameful. This is a place fit for a broody loner werewolf, but Derek isn’t that anymore, right? So we need to fix it.”

Isaac snorted. “As soon as I try to put up some fairy lights, he’ll bite my head off.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Not if we get it all done when he’s not here. I’m sure I can think of something to keep Derek out of the loft for a bit later.”

“I bet you could,” Erica murmured, smiling wickedly at Stiles’ confused look.

Scott smiled and hugged Stiles around the shoulders.

“Aw bro that’s so nice of you. I’ll help for sure!”

Lydia nodded sharply. “Yes, it’s a good idea Stiles. I’ll take charge of decorating- I know what’s good. We don’t want this place to look tacky.”

“Tackier,” Jackson snarked, and Lydia elbowed him sharply in the ribs.

“Just for that, you’re paying for the decorations. I know your credit card number.”

Isaac snickered.

“Make sure you get a tree. He needs a tree,” Stiles said quickly.

Lydia rolled her eyes. “Of course. When would you like this done by?”

Stiles considered quickly. “It’s not long til Christmas. In the next couple of days?” He grinned excitedly as another idea occurred to him. “Wait we should have a pack Christmas!”

Allison leaned back into the couch, frowning thoughtfully.

“Good idea, but when would we do it? On Christmas Day I’ll be with my Dad, Scott is with his Mum, you and your Dad go to Scott’s, right?”

“Boyd and I were just planning to hang out here, with Isaac,” Erica said.

Scott looked thoughtful.

“You know, my Mum has been bugging me about getting to know some of you better. She would probably be cool with moving Christmas here.”

“My Dad would probably like to chat to Chris more...” Stiles added.

Allison nodded. “I could convince him. It would be nice to have more people than just us two, anyway.”

“I’m having a Christmas breakfast with my Mother, I could come by for lunch,” Lydia suggested.

Stiles bounced in his seat. “This is great! Pack Christmas is on!!”

“We shouldn’t keep that a surprise from Derek,” Lydia said.

Stiles nodded. “Yeah, makes sense. We’ll need to prepare and use the kitchen and stuff. And Derek wouldn’t like our parents suddenly showing up without any notice.”

“I hear the elevator,” Boyd said suddenly. “He’s coming back.”

“Talk our parents round before telling him ok?” Stiles hissed. “We can text about the decorations mission.”

The others nodded, looking a little excited. Well except Jackson.

*            *             *

Derek could tell the others were keeping something from him when he entered the loft, but no one smelled worried or upset, so he left it alone. Whatever it was, would come out in due course. The others left after lunch, Scott inviting Isaac to hang out with him and Allison. Boyd and Erica went to see a movie. Stiles stayed a little longer, replenishing the spells on his bat.

Derek pretended to read his book. There was no way he could concentrate with Stiles smelling so good next to him. When Stiles used magic, his scent intensified and changed slightly, driving Derek to distraction. He just wanted to lean over and lick Stiles’ neck, sucking marks all the way down that pale skin. Pull down those khakis and- ugh stop it Derek he’s a teenager, and he’s not interested in you.

Finally Stiles finished, bouncing up from his chair and heading for the door. He turned and grinned at Derek.

“See ya later Sourwolf!”

Derek gave Stiles a nod, hands gripping his book as tight as possible, so he didn’t push Stiles up against the wall and kiss him senseless.

*         *          *

Stiles knew that Lydia was picking out the decorations, but he wanted to get something... personal, for Derek. He fidgeted, standing awkwardly in the aisle that held tree decorations. It had to be something special. Derek deserved something nice, something good. A sparkle of red caught his eye. It was a silver moulding of a wolf’s head, the eyes were inset with tiny sparkling red stones. Perfect. Stiles paid for it and wandered into the car park, walking a long way to the other end. The car park was packed today, everyone doing their Christmas shopping. About to pull the keys out of his pocket, he froze as a warning prickle ran across the back of his neck.

Stiles whirled around, placing his back to the side door of the jeep. The section of the car park he was in seemed empty. He wondered if he had time to pull his bat out. Suddenly a shock of pain hit him like a punch to the gut. Stiles gasped, sinking to his knees and struggling to breathe. Agony exploded in his head, travelling down his body and setting all his limbs afire. He tried to stand up, to get in the jeep, but his limbs were shaking too much and refused to cooperate.

“Let me help you,” a quiet voice said, and Stiles looked up, blinking his tear-filled eyes.

Hands grasped his elbows pulling him to his feet. Stiles wobbled, and he felt another set of hands on his arm, while the first set moved to his other arm. Struggling to focus through the pain, he could make out a couple of people he didn’t know. His skin crawled at their touch. He was being pulled away from the jeep, and Stiles realised that they hadn’t offered to call anyone for him. Fuck. He hadn’t planned for this.

“Really! You’re doing this here, during the day? Someone’s going to see you,” he gasped out painfully, trying to become dead weight, but they kept dragging him.

“Unlikely, we’re not going far,” came the reply, and Stiles was shoved into the backseat of a car.

Stiles was trying to concentrate on a spell, but the pain kept splintering his focus. He felt hands grab either side of his head, pressure at his temples, then blackness.

*            *           *   

Stiles rose to consciousness slowly. He was lying on something hard, he could feel pressure on his wrists and ankles. Cautiously, he opened his eyes. Stiles was lying on what looked like the surface of a stone table. Above him loomed a ceiling of rock, dimly lit by what looked like a bunch of candles, it was a bit hard to see from where he lay. Turning his head to the side, he could see ropes tying his wrists to the stone. The ropes glowed a little, and Stiles could feel it hemming in his magic. It was an uncomfortable feeling.

“I see you’ve finally joined us, Druid,” came a voice from the shadows.

A women with dark brown hair and soft features stepped into the flickering candle-light, closer to Stiles. Her lips were curved slightly, but her dark eyes were hard and remote.

“Where am I?” Stiles demanded.

“A cave in the forest. Your precious werewolves will never find you in time.” She frowned at Stiles. “We would have slaughtered the Hale pack if you hadn’t interfered.”

“Why do you want to kill them? What have they ever done to you?”

“Peter Hale wronged us.”

Stiles’ heart sank. Even after death, Peter was still causing trouble for them.

“Peter is dead now, and-“

“-but his family still lives. His pack. They all need to die. And with your protection of them removed, they will.”

Stiles sighed. “You mean this stone thing is actually a sacrificial altar? Could you get any more cliché?”

The woman ignored him, and went to join the other witches who had filed into the cave while Stiles was talking. They formed a loose circle around Stiles, and started chanting. That was never a good sign. This was ridiculous, why didn’t they just stab him in the car park? It would have been quicker. Stiles shook his head, and tried to think. They thought him a druid, was there something there he could use? Being a Spark was a bit different from a Druid. His power came from his will, rather than potions and gestures and words. Maybe they hadn’t magicked the ropes to stop him as much as they thought.

Carefully, he concentrated on the rope binding his right wrist. He could feel it pressing against his magic. Focusing purely on his intent and nothing else, he imagined the rope softening, becoming loose. Stiles felt the power in the ropes waver, flickering as it tried to hold against him. He imagined his power as water, fluid and flexible, impossible to push against, flowing around and through any hard obstacle.

The witches continued to chant, and Stiles felt the stone under him start vibrating. The vibrations moved through his body, sucking out his essence. At least that’s what it felt like to Stiles, now struggling against nausea. He could feel something vital being pulled from him. Stiles switched from the ropes to trying to hold back the vibrations from the stone. The woman started to move closer to Stiles again, with a silver knife grasped in her hand. Well this was just fucking great.

*        *       *

Derek was sprawled out on the couch, actually reading his book, when he felt a twinge of...something. Pain? Danger? He put the book down and stood up. Something was wrong. Derek concentrated on the feeling, and it grew stronger. Definitely pain. A lot of pain. Panic. Danger. Stiles! Belatedly Derek remembered the magic Stiles had done at Deaton’s. Stiles was in pain. Stiles was in danger. His face wolfed out, his eyes glowed red. He concentrated fiercely on finding Stiles, going to Stiles. Grabbing his phone, he quickly dialled Lydia. She was his designated person when this sort of thing happened. Thanks to Stiles setting up a phone tree so they could be easily contacted in an emergency.

“Yes?”

Derek was leaving the loft, heading for his car. He felt a tugging, but it was faint. He wasn’t close enough to where Stiles was yet.

“Stiles,” Derek said urgently, and Lydia’s voice changed. Worried, but steely.

“What’s happened?”

“He’s in pain, he’s in danger!”

“Where?”

“Don’t know yet, he did some magic at Deaton’s, I’m supposed to be able to track him with it. I feel something, but I’m too far away from it.”

“Try heading to the preserve,” Lydia ordered crisply. “That’s where the witches’ creatures were, and it will give us a meeting point. Call me if you get a location. We’ll meet you there.”

Derek muttered a reply, focused on finding Stiles. He started the car, and drove towards the preserve in a daze, mind half on the road, the rest on Stiles. The tugging grew stronger the closer he was to the preserve, and he thanked Lydia silently for her quick mind. Quickly parking the car on the roadside, he stopped, and concentrated again. The tugging was much stronger, and strangely specific. Derek knew which direction to head in, somehow. He called Lydia again, recalling Stiles yelling at him about never going off alone again with a twinge of pain unrelated to whatever he was feeling from Stiles.

“Don’t you dare die,” he muttered to no one. “If you’re not around to yell at me again I’m going to kill you.”

“Derek.”

“I’m at the preserve, heading north.”

“The wolves will reach you soon, don’t go off alone! Allison, Chris and I will be there in 10. Stiles’ dad is on his way too.”

In the distance, Derek heard their howls.

“I can’t wait, they’re hurting him. You’ll catch up.”

He hung up and howled back, dropping to all fours and running north.

_Just hold on Stiles._

*           *           *

“A sacrificial knife, really? You’re workin’ those clichés pretty hard there,” Stiles gasped out, trying to sound nonchalant.

The witch looked unimpressed. Stiles flinched  as she laid a hand on his chest. The witch closed her eyes and murmured softly, then opened them with a frown.

“You’re not quite ready. Why is that? What are you doing?”

Well good, something was working then. Stiles redoubled his efforts against the magical vibrations (wow that sounded so wrong and he was totally going to make a joke about that to the pack later).

The chanting by the rest of the coven faltered, as wolf howls tore into the late afternoon quiet. The witch by Stiles’ side tightened her grip on the knife and snapped at the others.

“Don’t stop now, keep going. Once we harvest his magic the wolves will be nothing.”

Stiles laughed at her posturing. “Oh you’re so dead.”

The witch hit him across the face with the hilt of the knife and pain splintered across his cheek.

“Maybe I’ll just get started,” she hissed, and used the knife to rip across Stiles’ shirt, leaving his chest bare.

Stiles made a quick command decision, and focused his magic into a spear, slashing it across the hand that held the knife. The sudden change in direction fooled whatever magic the witches were using to subdue him, and the witch dropped the knife with a surprised curse.  A deep cut opened up across her hand, blood dripping to the floor. That one move left Stiles open to the other magical attacks however, and he felt a sudden rise in fatigue leave his limbs feeling heavy and useless.

“Derek!” he yelled as loud as he could.

There was an answering roar, and suddenly a large, angry werewolf paused at the mouth of the cave, roared again, and tore through the coven circle.

Stiles heard screams and snarls, and the witch by his side abruptly disappeared from view. He heard a snap, a horrible crunch noise, and then Derek was looking over him, his face frantic.

“Stiles!”

Stiles tried to look reassuring.

“Hey buddy, I’m fine. Mind untying me? Pesky magical ropes.”

Carefully, Derek used his claws to slice through Stiles’ bonds. Stiles could hear snarls of other wolves, seemed like the whole pack turned out to rescue him. That was a little embarrassing. Finally he was free, and he sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the altar. Well that was what he intended to do. His limbs didn’t cooperate and Derek caught him.

“Stiles?”

“It’s okay. They were trying to drain me, and my body is just a bit tired. I’ll recover soon.”

Derek was on his knees facing Stiles, holding onto his shoulders to keep him upright. Stiles looked into Derek’s worried face, his beautiful hazel green eyes focused on him. Slowly, Stiles managed to reach his hand up to cup Derek’s cheek.

“Hey.” Stiles smiled. “Looks like that thing I did came in handy then, yeah?”

Derek rose up a little and leaned into Stiles’ touch like he was starved for it. Stiles couldn’t help but continue stroking Derek’s cheek, run his fingers through his dark hair like he’d always wanted to. He could blame it on the danger or something right? Stiles didn’t think he was making Derek uncomfortable, in fact if he didn’t know better, he’d think Derek wanted it. A little whimpering sound left Derek’s lips, and he turned and pressed those lips into Stiles’ palm. The feel of those lips against Stiles’ skin sent an instant twinge of want travelling down to Stiles’ dick. His breath hitched, and Derek looked up at Stiles, startled, then in his face a look of dawning comprehension. Stiles suspected his own face was a mirror image.

“You...you want me?” Stiles whispered, his heart going so fast he felt it would soon take off and fly out of his chest.

“You, me?” Derek stuttered uncertainly, as if he couldn’t believe what he just smelled (surely he smelled it, Stiles was pretty sure his arousal was currently stinking up the entire cave right now).

“Oh you idiot,” Stiles gasped, and pulled Derek’s face towards his.

He pressed his lips against Derek’s clumsily, sucking and tugging on Derek’s lower lip. Derek growled- fuck that was the sexiest growl Stiles had ever heard and his hands moved from Stiles’ shoulders to his waist, sliding down to Stiles’ ass and squeezing it hard. Stiles parted his legs and threw them around Derek, pulling their bodies together. It wasn’t enough, he needed more. Leaning back on the altar, he pulled and tugged Derek on top of him, and fuck yes. Stiles could feel Derek’s powerful body pressed against his and pinning him to the table and he ground his hard-on against Derek’s equally hard dick- straining against the confines of his jeans.

Derek moaned into Stiles’ mouth, licking across Stiles’ bottom lip, pulling it with his teeth and sliding his tongue inside Stiles’ eager mouth. They sucked each other’s tongues, licking and biting and Derek licked down Stiles’ neck, scenting him and sucking marks into his pale skin.

“Fuck, Derek,” Stiles breathed.

“Not here,” Derek growled back, and Stiles moaned.

“Seriously you guys?!” came a voice from behind them. “Can it wait? Stiles your Dad will be here any minute.”

That did the trick, and Derek stopped as Stiles groaned in frustration.

“Ugh Lyds you are the worst cock-block...”

“Did you really want to do it for the first time on a stone table when you were nearly killed on it?” Lydia snarked back. “You’ll thank me later.”

Stiles sat up and looked around. Jackson was leaving the cave, shoulders hunched, and Stiles snickered at what he imagined was the disgusted look on his face. Erica was watching, and she winked at Stiles. Boyd who was standing next to her, rolled his eyes. Scott and Allison were standing above a couple of dead bodies, Scott looking scandalised and Allison looking happy. Isaac lounged against the cave wall, the look in his eyes warning Stiles that he was saving up some great snark for later.

Chris entered the cave, carrying a shovel.

“Figured we’d need this,” he looked down grimly at the dead bodies. “Guess our witch problem is taken care of.”

Stiles squeezed Derek’s hand, shooting him a heated look when Derek glanced his way.

“Don’t think we’re not continuing this later Der,” he whispered.

Derek smiled, his face so full of affection that Stiles felt like tearing up. How was this a thing, how did he get Derek? This was the best moment of his life.

“I’m kinda grateful for those witches,” he said softly.

*               *             *

“Stiles,” Derek growled, his face frowning under the blindfold.

Stiles was pulling him to the door of the loft.

“Nearly there,” Stiles said cheerfully. “Don’t worry, the blindfold is for the surprise, not for sexy times.”

“I should hope it’s not, as I can hear our entire pack waiting for us,” Derek replied dryly.

“I mean, I’m not ruling it out, but we can totally talk about that later.”

Stiles pulled open the door, and did a quick survey of the room. The pack had been busy while Stiles and Derek had been busy christening Stiles’ bed. The Christmas tree was big and full, needle-tipped branches very lifelike. The decorations were themed red and silver, tiny white fairy lights adorning both the tree and the windows. A tasteful red and silver centrepiece was displayed on the large dining table that Derek had bought to fit everyone in for their Christmas lunch tomorrow. The pack was gathered in the couch area, looking excited.

Carefully, Stiles removed Derek’s blindfold.

“This is your surprise, Sour Wolf. You deserve a Christmas as awesome as we all know you are.”

Derek looked around, his eyes wide and startled. Stiles started to worry, then Derek’s face melted into a smile and his eyes were wet.

“This...you...thank you.”

Stiles grinned. “Hug time!”

Derek growled in protest, but Stiles knew he didn’t mean it. He saw the way Derek melted a little more as each pack member hugged him thoroughly, even Jackson. Finally, Stiles crept into Derek’s arms, pulling something out of his pocket.

“This is for you.”

Derek took the silver wolf’s head decoration from Stiles’ fingers, smiling as he turned it over in his hands. Stiles snuck his fingers up to Derek’s face and carefully wiped away a tear.

“Best Christmas ever?” Stiles asked, grinning cheekily.

Derek snorted a laugh and kissed Stiles thoroughly, ignoring Jackson’s groans.

“You know it is.”


End file.
